


all of life's problems

by delia-pavorum (literaryminded)



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, And I Know Nothing About Doctors, Ben Solo at his Ben Solo-est, Ben and Rey don't "do" costumes, Drunk!Rey gets drunk, EVERYONE'S A DOCTOR, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Halloween Party Gone Awry, Mild Praise Kink, Mostly Fluff, Vaginal Fingering, for different reasons, med school au, slightly angsty, traumatic past, vomit tw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 12:38:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16475732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literaryminded/pseuds/delia-pavorum
Summary: “Anyway, Ben.” Poe was already inching in the direction of the kitchen, where a group of people all dressed like the clown from IT - with varying degrees of success - were loudly chanting the word “shots” over and over again.  “I’m going to let you get comfortable, grab a drink, and get settled in. And, hey--” He paused, which made Ben turn to look at him. “--Try and have some fun for once, yeah?” With a wink, he threw his arm over Finn’s shoulder and they both took their leave. “Take care of my boy, Rey!” he called over his shoulder just as he disappeared into the kitchen.Ben quickly looked over at Rey, who was staring at him once more over the rim of her cup, her eyes twinkling.“I don’t need babysitting,” he muttered, tone surly.“Oh, shut it,” she responded good-humoredly. “Let’s get you a drink.”When Ben Solo reluctantly attends a Halloween Party being thrown by his former roommate from med school, he gets more than he bargained for.





	all of life's problems

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GreyForceUser (ReyandKyloforever)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReyandKyloforever/gifts).



> This was thanks to a prompt by the lovely Jen (GreyForceUser), who requested (amongst other fabulous ideas):
> 
> **"My prompt would be a costume party and they are the only two party poopers with no costumes...DEFINITELY smut!"** ( _edited for content so it would properly apply to what I actually wrote!_ ) 
> 
> Hope you like it! 
> 
> Many, many thanks to my amazing betas, [ @slipgoingunder](http://slipgoingunder.tumblr.com) and [ @voicedimplosives](http://voicedimplosives.tumblr.com), who are the best betas for the simple fact that they’re like me, but better. 
> 
> The title comes from a Homer Simpson quote: "To alcohol - the cause of, and solution to, all of life's problems." Yes, Homer Simpson. Don't @ me.

* * *

Ben Solo knocked once. Then he knocked again.

The sounds blaring from inside the house led him to believe that his knocking was not going to attract enough attention. It further led him to believe that, perhaps, this was not the type of house gathering where knocking was required.

He sighed. He hated those types of house gatherings.

( _All_ types of gatherings, for that matter.)

Experimentally, he tested the door handle. Sure enough, the unlocked door swung open, granting him entry to a medium-sized foyer and about a half dozen pairs of eyes swinging to look over at him as he entered.

Aside from one or two pairs that remained to give him a quick up-and-down, most looked away from the stranger and back to the conversations they were having with the people they knew.

Which led to Ben’s first realization of the evening: he likely didn’t know a single other person at that party.

Smothering a groan and berating himself for the hundredth time for even agreeing to this, he walked further into the house and hung a left just past the stairs into the living room area.

More strangers were in that room, some moving to the beat of the music, some lounging on the couch, even more grazing at the food table or scooping out some purple punch with—was that—? Ah, _fake_ spiders in it. Fake spiders in ice cubes, to be more specific.

 _Cute_ , he thought sardonically. He hadn’t known that Poe had such...flair.

His entrance into the living room area also led him to his second realization: he was the only one not wearing a costume.

In his defence, he was thirty-two years old. How the hell was he supposed to know that, when his former roommate from med school invited him to his first house party since moving back into town, and said party happened to fall on Halloween, that he was going to be required to come _in costume_? Did people actually _do_ that?

He looked around. And sighed.

Apparently, they did.

Just as he was mapping the quickest escape route to ensure he wouldn’t be seen, he heard his name being shouted.

“Ben! BEN!”

Groaning inwardly, he plastered a stiff smile on his face and turned towards the sound of the voice. Poe Dameron strutted towards him, arm waving, red solo cup clutched in the other hand. He was, quite impressively, Ben had to admit, decked out as some sort of Egyptian Pharaoh — complete with Birkenstocks, a staff, a gold belt, other gold accoutrements attached to a black robe and headdress, and––oh. Ben peered closer. Eyeliner, too.

“Hey, buddy!” He extended a hand and Ben clasped it, still grimace-smiling. “Glad you could make it.” He gave Ben the once-over. “Nice...costume. Lumberjack?”

“What? No.” Ben looked down at himself: red and black plaid shirt, unbuttoned, white Henley underneath, dark wash jeans, and whatever brown boots he’d had at the front door. “Just...me. I didn’t realize we had to come in costume.”

Poe stared at him for a beat. “Ben. I invited you to a _Halloween party_ ,” he said, eventually. “By definition, you—” He got distracted as another man sidled up beside him, dressed like a fighter pilot in an army green flight suit and aviators. “Hey!” He turned to Ben. “Ben, this is my partner, Finn. Finn, this is the guy I told you about. My old roommate from med school.”

“Hey, man.” Finn took off his sunglasses and extended a hand to Ben. “Nice to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.” He turned to Poe. “Leia’s son, right?”

Poe nodded. “Yup. Your mom says hi by the way.” He gave Ben a mischievous grin. “And to call her back.”

 _Great_ , Ben sarcastically replied in his head, although he just gave Poe a nod, fake smile still plastered on his face as he politely shook Finn’s hand. After med school and residency, Ben had to gone to work at Supremacy General, away from Hopedale Community Hospital —the hospital where his family had established their careers and where his mother was Chief of Surgery. The hospital that Poe worked at.

“Nice to meet you,” he said to Finn, slightly belatedly. “So, you’re also at Hopedale?”

Finn nodded. “Yup, I’m a resident there. Second year.”

“Nice,” he responded absently. “And is Poe your attending physician?” He knew it was generally frowned upon for attendings to enter into relationships with their interns—not that it actually stopped any of them from doing so.

Finn laughed. “No! No, luckily not. That might be awkward. No, I actually met him through my good friend, Rey. Another resident.”

“Mm-hmm,” Ben mumbled, looking around distractedly, already formulating another plan for escape. “And your friend –– is he one of Poe’s?” he asked, mainly to buy himself some more time, just as his eye caught a clear pathway out of the room. _Bingo_.

“She,” a new voice piped up, surprisingly close to him.

He quashed the impulse to jump out of his skin and instead whirled around to look at the origin of the voice.

A young woman, way younger than him - _too young for him_ \- stood directly behind his right shoulder. She was looking up at him with an amused look, taking a sip from her cup. She was cute - _really_ cute - with a fresh-faced beauty. Any makeup she wore appeared to be minimal; her natural skin, lightly freckled, showing through. Blush-pink lips pursed, simultaneously swallowing her drink and hiding a small smirk.

He stared at her, slack-jawed and blinking for a moment, before he said: “Pardon?”

“I,” she said to him, very slowly, as though she understood his brain needed the extra time to catch up. A British accent became evident the more she spoke. “––am a girl. A ‘she’, not a ‘he’. And yes, Poe is my attending physician.” She took another swig of her drink.

 _Oh_. Evidently ‘Ray’ was a girl’s name now. He spoke his thought out loud, like an idiot.

“It’s spelled R-e-y,” she retorted, a little less amusement in her voice than before.

 _Shit_. “Oh,” he said stupidly.

“Yeah, oh. What are you supposed to be anyway?” She drained her drink and then crossed her arms over her chest, waiting for his response.

“Uh,” he stalled, looking down at his outfit. “Myself?”

She scoffed. “Nice.”

He looked at her - really looked at her - for the first time. She wore no discernible costume either, just ripped jeans and black Converse and a chunky mustard-coloured sweater that was cropped high enough to show a strip of toned belly whenever she raised her arms up higher than a certain level.

“What are _you_ supposed to be?” he retorted, momentarily forgetting his plan for escape. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Poe and Finn exchange a glance that could have only said _what the fuck?_

“ _I_ didn’t dress up, because I hate Halloween. I’m here for my friends,” she nodded towards Finn and Poe, “and the booze.” She lifted her cup in a ‘cheers’ gesture. “What’s your excuse?”

As she spoke, she brushed past him towards the punch bowl a few feet away, refilling her cup with the vibrant purple drink (and spider cubes).

“There’s a lot of vodka in that, Rey,” Finn told her, a hint of warning in his tone.

“I know,” she replied airily. “I’m drinking until I can’t taste it anymore.” She turned back to Ben. “Well?” The cup was back at her lips the second she’d asked her question.

He watched her chug it, bemused.

“I’m thirty-two years old,” he answered finally, by way of explanation.

She stared at him over the rim of her cup, waiting. When she realized that was all he had to offer, she choked on her drink. “So?!” she spluttered, finally, wiping the purple drink running from her nose. “Poe is thirty-three and he’s King friggin’ Tut!”

Ben was starting to get irritated. Who the fuck _cared_ what Poe did? Aside from all their professors, residents, attendings, his mother––

“Okay, well.” He gave her a mocking head tilt. “Cool. I think I’m going to––”

“Why, Benjamin Solo. I don’t believe it!”

Immediately placing the voice, Ben felt his jaw clench. He slowly turned and was greeted with the hated vision of his insufferable co-worker, Armitage Hux. Dressed, rather uninspiredly, as a doctor.

Luckily, he was spared the hypocrisy - however tempting - of commenting on the utter unoriginality of Hux’s costume, by Poe.

“Great costume, Hux,” the shorter man drawled. “How long did it take you to come up with that one?”

“How do you even know each other?” Ben asked, the thought suddenly occurring to him. As far as he could tell, Poe, his partner Finn, and Finn’s friend, Rey - who appeared to be getting progressively more intoxicated by the minute, Ben noted, feeling a notch form between his brows - all worked at the same hospital, which was nowhere near the hospital where Ben and Hux worked.

“Finn was at Supremacy General for the first year of his residency. Hux was his attending physician.” The look Poe gave said it all.

“And,” Finn continued, “I still stayed in touch with some of the other residents and one of the physicians and we invited all of them to the party, so…” He plastered a smile on his face, his expression reflecting the nervous, cringing complacency of a doctor in early residency trying not to step on any toes. “Doctor Hux was more than welcome to attend as well,” he ended on a stiff, rehearsed note.

Ben looked closely at Finn, but couldn’t place him. It made sense - he had specifically requested not to have any interns as he completed his fellowship in cardiothoracic surgery, so he generally stayed away from the residency students if he could help it. He nodded at the explanation, giving a half-shrug as if to say, _what can you do_. He turned back to Hux –– to see he had completely moved into the young intern - Rey’s - space and was attempting to...threaten her? Charm her? It was difficult to discern. He felt his eyes narrow involuntarily and he took a step towards them before he could stop himself.

Luckily, the girl appeared to be able to hold her own.

“I’m good,” she loudly proclaimed in his face, pointing towards her cup. “All filled up, thanks.” She turned towards Ben and caught his eye as Hux muttered something under his breath and turned away. She rolled her eyes heavenward, angling her head in Hux’s direction and shaking it slightly. _Yikes_ , she mouthed.

Ben huffed out a laugh. She was cute. Too cute.

“Anyway, Ben.” Poe was already inching in the direction of the kitchen, where a group of people all dressed like the clown from IT - with varying degrees of success - were loudly chanting the word “shots” over and over again.  “I’m going to let you get comfortable, grab a drink, and get settled in. And, hey––” He paused, which made Ben turn to look at him. “––Try and have some fun for once, yeah?” With a wink, he threw his arm over Finn’s shoulder and they both took their leave. “Take care of my boy, Rey!” he called over his shoulder just as he disappeared into the kitchen.

Ben quickly looked over at Rey, who was staring at him once more over the rim of her cup, her eyes twinkling.

“I don’t need babysitting,” he muttered, tone surly.

“Oh, shut it,” she responded good-humoredly. “Let’s get you a drink.”

* * *

Two hours later, Rey Johnson’s new friend Ben appeared reasonably tipsy while Rey herself was absolutely sloshed.

It was her own fault for already getting her pre-game on earlier on in the night. And Finn hadn’t been kidding when he’d said the punch had a _lot_ of vodka in it. Honestly, she should have known, since she was the one who helped him make four trays worth of those stupid Kool-Aid-and-vodka spider cubes.

Also her fault: thinking she could match this behemoth of a man drink for drink and, occasionally, shot for shot. Though she was tall for a woman and sometimes forgot tall men even existed in this world of Poes and Finns, she was no match for a six-foot-three, two hundred and twenty pound giant.

Fast-forward to ten-thirty - embarrassingly early in the evening for her current level of inebriation - and she found herself sitting on Poe’s couch, her socked feet (where were her shoes?) resting on New Friend Ben’s lap, head thrown back, absolutely guffawing at something he had said.

He laughed along with her, but with the goofy, somewhat reserved chuckle of someone who was watching a drunk person operate and exist - partly entertained, partly concerned. At least his hand was resting comfortably on her shin - shins, actually, spanning both shins, wow, that was a big hand, yes sirree.

Rey tried to focus her eyes on his face, but it felt as though they kept crossing of their own volition, turning inwards towards her nose.

 _Oh, god, how embarrassing_ , she thought, horrified. She scrubbed her face for good measure.

“Are you okay?” he asked, squeezing her leg.

“Hmm? Yup! Fine!” she chirped, hoping he couldn’t hear the slur in her voice.

“Okay.” He squeezed her leg again. “I’m just going to use the restroom. Be right back.” He gently moved her legs off his lap and stood up, stretching.

She had to refrain from wetting her bottom lip as she watched his shirt ride up, exposing a thin line of skin and a hint of hair just below his belly button.

_Damn._

When she first saw New Friend Ben, after he had mistaken her for a guy but before she’d been able to get a good look at him, she found herself asking the age-old question: “Is he hot or just tall?”

Turned out, the answer was: a bit of both.

He certainly wasn’t classically good-looking, like the type of male model you’d see in a watch or cologne advert. He was sweetly awkward. She’d caught a glimpse of those adorably large ears poking through his shorn locks, even though he desperately tried to hide them. Had a bit of a scraggly mustache/chin-beard situation going on. Charmingly crooked smile. Nose that was...not small. But a deep, rumbling voice that reverberated through her body - pinging all the right spots - as he spoke.

And he was _certainly_ tall. Not to mention muscular. Broad shoulders, solid arms, a chest that looked like it was carved from pure marble—

Rey released a gusty exhale. Was it hot in there? It was hot, right?

She stood up quickly –– too quickly. The sudden movement caused her to sit back down and wait for the room to stop spinning. Gingerly, she tried again, taking a few trial steps.

 _Okay_. _Okay_. _You got this.One foot in front of the other_.

As she started walking, she was hit with the sudden and urgent sensation of having to pee _immediately_.

 _Oh, shit. Okay. Bathroom._ She started to walk towards the bathroom on the main floor, when she remembered Ben was in there. _Shit_. _Fuck. Bugger._

Stairs it was.

Holding the bannister tightly, she crept up them in a slow crawl, willing the room to stop spinning for just a moment.

 _You idiot. You absolute moron. You do this every year_ , she berated herself as she climbed step by step, feeling the churning regret - and vodka Kool-Aid - settling into her belly.

“Oh, dear, look at you.”

A voice came from her right, as she leaned heavily onto the railing. She blearily looked over to see that the nasal, red-headed doctor who - _so ingeniously_ , she thought with an internal eye roll - dressed like a doctor for Halloween, was climbing beside her up the stairs, looking not unlike the cat who got the cream.

“Here, let me help you.” He grabbed her right arm and proceeded to assist her up the stairs. She didn’t want him touching her, but she didn’t have the presence of mind to push him away aside from a halfhearted jab to the ribs.

She allowed him to take her as far as the bathroom door and then she used her other hand to try and shove him away. He barely budged and his grip didn’t lessen. The feel of him holding her like that, his intent murky but his grip unmoveable, shifted her from annoyance to mild alarm.

“Oi!” she cried out, jerking her arm away forcefully before roughly shoving him back, successfully this time. “What the _bloody_ hell do you think you’re doing?”

Before he could even respond, they both heard a rumbling sound, like rolling thunder, getting progressively closer. Within seconds, New Friend Ben appeared and got right in Hux’s rapidly whitening face.

“You’ve got to be _fucking_ kidding me,” NFB - _Ben,_ just Ben - bit out, aggressively advancing on the other man. “Tell me you’re kidding me right now.”

“What?” Hux squeaked. “She was about to keel over on the stairs, I-I just helped her up so she wouldn’t fall down.”

“Get the fuck out of here.” He encroached on his colleague’s space even further, causing the other man to shrink back, even as he was attempting to slink past Ben. “Now.”

“You’re a mad man, Solo!” Hux exclaimed, brave now that he was near the top of the stairs, far away from both of them. “You don’t even know her!”

Ben let out a humorless huff of laughter, shaking his head in disbelief, before raking his hair back from his face in agitation. “Get lost,” he ordered, pointing down the stairs.

Hux scoffed, though he obliged, muttering under his breath as he descended the stairs.

Ben turned to Rey. “Are you okay?” He brought his hand up, pinching her chin lightly with his thumb and forefinger, gently turning her head as though inspecting for injury.

Though momentarily sobered while everything was happening, Rey felt the alcohol hit her again full force as the room tumbled around her.

“Ugh,” she moaned, feeling saliva collecting in her mouth. “I think I’m going to be sick.” She stumbled towards the bathroom door and dove for the toilet. “You need to leave,” she gasped out, before lifting the toilet lid and emptying the contents of her stomach in a purple tidal wave.

 _Please don’t pee yourself. If there is a God out there, and you can hear me, please don’t let me pee myself_ , she thought as a second wave of nausea hit and her stomach roiled violently, releasing more liquid into the toilet bowl.

Luckily - or unluckily, for her blood alcohol level - she hadn’t eaten much that day. So the only thing that came up was primarily purple fluid from all the punch she had consumed. And - _huzzah_ \- she hadn’t peed herself.

 _So, there is a God,_ she thought, slumping over, her head resting on her hands, which still clung to the toilet. She knew how fastidious Finn was about cleaning - especially before a party - so she didn’t think twice about hugging the toilet, but she could imagine how it would look to someone––someone who ––

Oh, _fuck_.

As if on cue, the toilet flushed over her head and she felt fingers lightly grazing her temples, scraping her hair back from her face.

 _No_ , she thought in horror, realizing belatedly that her hair had remained out of her face and blessedly vomit-free the entire time, thanks to strong hands gently holding it back while she gracelessly chundered.

 _Okay, God, if you_ do _exist, truly, then you’ll go right ahead and kill me now. I’ll wait_.

She swallowed heavily, cringing at the sourness in her mouth, and unfairly remained alive. She loudly groaned.

“How do you feel?” Ben asked from above her head.

 _Like dying and not just because of the alcohol poisoning_.

“Fine,” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes.

The truth was, she actually did feel a bit better. The room had stopped spinning at least.

“Mouthwash,” she continued, speaking in muffled, minimalist sentences. “Under sink.”

He released her hair and she tucked it behind her ears as he rummaged under the sink, pulling out a half-empty bottle of - _ugh_ \- purple Listerine. She accepted it and stood shakily, quickly rinsing her mouth out and spitting into the sink, running the water before she could see more purple liquid under her nose. Sighing, she turned around, bracing herself on the counter, to look at Ben. He was leaning against the tile wall of the bathroom, arms crossed over his chest.

“Sorry about that,” she said. “Thank you––” She sighed. “Thanks for staying. I’m sure it was disgusting.”

He shrugged. “I mean - I am a doctor. I’ve seen worse.”

She laughed shortly. “True.” Then she paused for a second, before sighing again. “I didn’t want––I mean, this whole ‘Friday night CW episode’ was not my intent for this evening.”

He looked at her puzzled. “CW?”

“Yeah, you know, CW. The channel. Every show on it has the same formula. The girl with a mysteriously tragic past. The PG-rated sexual harassment. The hot guy taking care of her.” She shook her head. “I’m a walking teen-drama stereotype.”

He chuckled softly, scratching the back of his neck, looking slightly uncomfortable about one of the things she said, though she wasn’t sure which one. “That’s one way of looking at it. Hux is a piece of shit, he shouldn’t have laid a hand on you. And I didn’t mind helping.” He paused and she looked up, catching his gaze. “Tragic past?”

 _Right._ She shifted uncomfortably. “I’ll tell you, but I have to pee first.” _Way past shame now, aren’t we, Johnson?_ “Shoo.”

She pushed him out and closed the door behind her, leaning against it briefly as the events of the night caught up to her. She was exhausted and she could already feel her hangover creeping closer. With a sigh, she pushed off and did her business, flushing, washing her hands, face, and the inside of her mouth three times over and then rinsing once more with mouthwash for good measure.

She swung open the door, half-expecting Ben to have disappeared at that point - not even blaming him if he had - but there he was, leaning against the wall across the hall. Waiting for her.

Her heart softened, ever so slightly.

“Come,” she said, making a decision. She grabbed his hand and dragged him into the guest bedroom - her room whenever she crashed at Finn and Poe’s.

She flopped down on the familiar and comfortable sheets and patted the bed beside her. “Join me,” she drawled, “for the story of a lifetime.”

He quirked a smile at her and sat down, lifting his legs onto the bed, then thinking twice and kicking his boots off first before settling back down. He lay on his back and linked his fingers over his stomach, turning his head to look at her.

“That good, huh,” he said, responding to her theatrics.

“Sure.” She laughed humorlessly, then hazarded a glance in his direction. “I’m not even sure why I’m telling you this, to be perfectly honest. I just met you. You don’t want to hear this.”

He appeared to contemplate her words. “Yes,” he said finally, “you did just meet me.” He caught her gaze. “But it doesn’t _feel_ like I just met you.”

She did a half-blink as she took in his words. _I feel it, too_ , she thought, though her throat caught when she tried to speak the words out loud. Instead, she just nodded.

“And,” he continued, “I _do_ want to hear it. _If_ you want to tell it.”

 _Keep it simple_ , she warned herself. “Alright, fine. Halloween is tough, because - well, I had a rough childhood. Lots of fending for myself, parents usually weren’t around. In and out, left me for stretches at a time on my own. That sort of thing.”

“How old?” Ben interrupted, his gaze shifting from hazy contentment to intense and laser-focused.

She swallowed. “Erm, young. Very young. Four, five. Six.”

She noticed his jaw working, but he simply nodded.

“Anyway, the year I turned eight, they went away for awhile. A long while. School had already started. I was getting myself there and back every day. They had a meal program for kids who were––” She closed her eyes briefly. “––kids who were hungry. Kids who they knew weren’t getting food during the day. You know, pre-Jamie Oliver intervention, so it was mostly shit, but whatever. So I ate alright during the day. But then every night I would go home and - nothing. Nobody there.” _Fuck, this is tougher than I thought it would be._ She paused and had to take a moment to collect herself.

Ben’s arm snaked out towards her, sliding beneath her neck and shoulders, which were sore from being so tense and locked up while she vomited. He drew her closer to him until she was resting her head on his chest. It felt nice. Warm.

Safe.

She continued: “I didn’t say anything, because I’d seen what happens to the kids who ratted. Foster care. Taken from their homes. I had this cat - Bibi - cutest little thing, orange tabby. If I had nothing else, at least I had Bibi.” _You’re saying too much, wrap it up, freakshow_. “Erm, anyway, so one night it was Halloween. The doorbell kept ringing, but I thought it was trick-or-treaters. I had this old Casio tape-player - some ancient thing from the early nineties––” She caught his snort. “Sorry. Vintage. I’m sure they were the height of technology in their time. Anyway, I had it on and was listening to the same Spice Girls tape over and over to distract me from how hungry I was, so I guess I couldn’t hear the shouting––” She paused and shivered at the memory. His arm tightened around her and started rubbing soothingly up and down her arm.

“Suddenly, the door exploded. I mean, I know that’s not actually what happened, I’m sure it barely splintered, like maybe just the part where the doorknob was. But to a kid, not expecting it, and just seeing and hearing that big boom…” She shook her head. “It was like the world coming down.”

She hadn’t realized she’d stopped talking, lost in reflection, until he turned and - pressing his lips to her forehead - mumbled against her skin: “Then what happened?”

“Oh––” She snapped out of her reverie. “Well, it was the police. One of my teachers at school had tipped them off that I was on my own - guess I didn’t hide it as well as I thought I did - and they’d come ‘round to check on me, but when I didn’t answer the door, they, er, let themselves in.” She rubbed her nose on his warm flannel shirt, inhaling his scent, almost unconsciously deriving comfort from it. “Anyway, they took me with them. Thus began my relationship with the FCA.

“And I hate Halloween—” She reconsidered briefly. “I mean, I hate _all_ holidays, really, but especially Halloween, because - aside from the fact that everything went down on that godforsaken day - I’ll never forget how, as they walked me to their patrol car clutching all five of the things I actually owned on this planet, all I saw were kids in costumes with their mums and dads, having fun, collecting treats. And then stopping to look at _me_. The poor little lonely girl, being taken away by the police on Halloween.” She paused. “A couple were even my schoolmates. _That_ made the next day awkward.” She swallowed hard. “Turns out, _my_ mum and dad were nowhere to be found. Still don’t know where they are, if they’re even alive. All I know is they didn’t care enough to come back for me.

“The worst part?” she continued, feeling the familiar resentment well up inside her. “I had to leave Bibi. Never even got to say goodbye.” She blinked hard several times. “So, he probably just thought I abandoned him, same as my parents abandoned me. Why wouldn’t he, right?”

She sniffed and burrowed deeper into his shirt, surprised to feel it had become slightly damp. “Oh, bugger.” She looked up at him and blinked. “I cried.”

She found him staring at her intensely, his eyes dark and fathomless, but with a notch between his brows that spoke of warmth and concern. He softly stroked up her back as she continued to stare at him, trying to see what she could derive from his gaze - was that pity?

“Rey,” he murmured, moving his hand upwards until it cupped the back of her head, the large palm encompassing almost her entire skull. “I’m so––”

 _No_. She didn’t want his pity. The last thing she wanted was to sound pathetic and needy and like a damaged girl who needed comfort and reassurance.

So, she did the thing that only a damaged girl would do.

She kissed him.

Leaning forward, praying the mouthwash was still effective, she captured his lips with her own, feeling the give of his soft lips beneath hers, the minuscule change as they parted ever so slightly after a moment of tense surprise. The gentle, searching, wet pressure of his tongue grazing lightly over her lower lip. The matching pressure, bolder, of her own stroking his.

He brought his other hand up to cup her jaw, sitting up just a bit and taking her with him as he deepened the kiss, tilting his head as she tilted hers, wrapping her arms around his neck. He sat up fully as she threw her leg across his, straddling his lap, raking one hand through the short layers of his hair and drawing him in closer. He wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her against him tightly. She ground down on him, feeling how hard he was already through his jeans.

In hindsight, it was funny how quickly she’d sobered up - being sick certainly helped, as did reliving childhood trauma. The rock hard, six-foot-three Mount Benverest between her legs didn’t hurt either.

As if he could read her thoughts, he broke away, breathless. “We shouldn’t––” he gasped. “You’re drunk.”

“Nope.” She crossed her arms and lifted her chunky sweater off over her head, leaving her in her bralette and jeans. “Not drunk anymore, KiliBenjaro.”

“KiliBen––?” He looked at her perplexed, perhaps ready to say something about how her nonsensical prose negated her claim, then looked down at the pale violet, semi-translucent lace configuration she was wearing. He swallowed hard, his fingers tracing one of the straps. They trailed lower until they lightly grazed over her nipple, already pebbled and poking through the material. He traced back up to where the lace edge met her skin and hooked his finger underneath the material, pulling it down slightly until he exposed her nipple.

She let out a shaky sigh, moving on him restlessly, but he appeared to be in no rush.

He leaned forward slowly, reverently, his hot breath hitting her chest, until his mouth came right to her bare breast. He kissed the soft mound, intentionally missing the nipple once, twice, leaving open-mouthed kisses exactly where she didn’t need them.

She bit her lip and tried to adjust so his mouth would land on target, moving his head with her hand tangled up in his hair. He laughed softly at her ardour and rewarded her, capturing the nipple in his velvety mouth, warm and wet, biting lightly to distend her already taut nipple.

She moaned loudly, unable to moderate herself, praying Finn or Poe wouldn’t hear or come up to investigate the state of her wellbeing.

“God, Rey,” he groaned into her skin. Appearing to do so with great effort, he moved away, replacing the bra back over her breast, untucking the folded-in lace of the cup, smoothing it down with his hand. “We shouldn’t do this. I don’t trust either of our levels of sobriety at the moment.”

Rey groaned as well, an entirely different sentiment behind the noise. “ _Please_ don’t do this.” Apparently she wasn’t above randy begging. “Ben. Please don’t go this way.”

He chuckled softly, resting his forehead on her collarbone before placing a kiss there. “Rey…” he sighed. “You’re killing me.” He lifted his face and kissed her lips. She held him close and deepened the kiss until he broke off with a moan. _“Fuck_.” He looked at her through hooded eyes, appearing to war with himself. Finally, he bit off a curse and said, almost gruffly, “Take off your pants.”

* * *

Rey stripped out of her jeans faster than Ben had ever seen anyone take off jeans before in his life. Somehow one pant leg was inside out and the other intact, but she didn’t appear to think twice about it. Just got back on the bed and clambered on top of him.

This wasn’t going to work for what he had in mind. He gently moved her to the side. “Lie down, okay?”

She immediately acquiesced, lying back, biting her lip and looking over at him with a mixture of longing and nervousness that made his heart pang.

He braced himself with one arm on either side of her and kissed her stomach, her sternum, and the side of her throat, before settling down beside her, bringing his hand up to trail lightly down her body, from chest to navel.

He could feel her skin erupt in goosebumps and a light shiver ran through her.

“Shh,” he murmured soothingly. “You okay?”

She nodded jerkily, gripping his wrist with her hand.

“Good girl,” he continued, in the same soothing, soft voice. His hand grazed down her belly, skimming the top of her panties before tucking underneath the band and tickling downwards. He brushed the soft thatch of hair she had there and felt her tense. He kissed her temple - _perfect. You’re perfect_ \- and furrowed deeper, dipping further down until his hand skimmed the bundle of nerves just past her mons. He stroked her there softly, until she let out a shuddering half-sigh, half-moan. Adjusting, he moved his hand further, slipping into the wetness below. Feeling the extent of her arousal, his brain short-circuited for a brief second, white stars flashing before his eyes.

“ _Jesus_ ,” he groaned into her temple, unable to help himself from grinding his pelvis into her leg. _Not part of the plan_ , he reminded himself.

He trailed his fingers through her slickness, reveling in the feel of how turned on she was, before bringing it back up to her clit, slipping up and down and around, working her now that he had the lubrication and the inclination.

“Jesus, Ben,” she cried, her back arching as he rubbed her in tight, wet circles.

“Shh-shh––” He covered her mouth lightly with his other hand, bringing his lips to her ears. “It’s only around eleven o’clock, there are still people around. You have to keep quiet.”

She nodded frantically, catching his eye, and he removed his hand from her mouth. He moved his other hand away from her clit and she moaned at the loss, until he traveled lower, finding the part of her body that was soft and pliant, all liquid and heat, and circling her there lightly before pushing his finger in. She accepted him easily and he pumped in and out once, twice, before coming back with two fingers. This time, it took a bit of adjusting. He moved in and out shallowly, allowing her body to open fully for him, until finally she accepted both digits on a lusty groan, bracing her feet on the bed.

“I’m sorry––” He pulled his fingers out and she cried out in protest, until she realized it was just so he could use both of his hands to pull her underwear off completely. “Do you care?” he asked belatedly, after tossing it to the floor.

She looked at him like he’d gone crazy. “Are you mad? No! Just come back here.”

He obliged, replacing his fingers once again, slipping them back inside her and moving in and out with shallow thrusts. His thumb found her clit and he strummed the sensitive nerve endings as he continued to apply pressure with his fingers on her interior walls. His mouth moved closer to her neck, breathing in the subtle, floral scent of her perfume at her pulse point. He grazed his teeth along her throat, licking and sucking at the point where her neck met her shoulder, tasting the heady salty-sweetness of her sweat.

“F-fuck,” she gasp, hips stuttering, “how are you s-so _good_ at this—Ben, I’m come—I think I’m coming—” She gasped and let out an abbreviated cry, arching off the bed as Ben felt her go liquid on his hand, her inner walls fluttering against his fingers, slick wetness gathering in his palm. He eased her down from her climax, rubbing softly at the sensitized skin, before gathering her still-shuddering body into his arms. 

“That was—” she said finally, lips pressed under his jaw. “Unbelievable.” She kissed the spot where her mouth rested. “Now, you.” Her hand stroked down his stomach, but he stopped her with a gentle but firm grip.

“No.” He kissed her upturned lips as she looked at him in shock. “I’m okay. That was for you.”

Her jaw slackened. “You—I—” She shook her head. “What?”

“Don’t worry about me,” he insisted. “I wanted to do that for you.” He wanted to say something trite, like, _To make a good Halloween memory_. But nothing sounded right in his head, so he kept his thoughts to himself.

She gaped at him. “Are you...real life?”

He shrugged, happily—or, as happy as he could be with a truly painful erection. “Feels real enough.”

She shook her head again. “You’re nuts.” She appeared to reconsider. “I mean, I’ll take it. But you’re nuts.” She settled back into his arms and sighed contentedly. “Now _this_ was a good Halloween,” she said, almost as an afterthought, a note of wonder in her voice.

“I’m glad,” he said, kissing her temple. He tugged the sheet out from underneath her and threw it over her naked lower half. They were quiet for a moment, matching their breathing with one another—deep inhales, soft exhales. “So…”

“Yeah?” she murmured sleepily, curling up closer to him. He tightened his arm around her, considering his next words - her past weighing heavily on him, the thought of a young girl with a cruel start, in a nasty system, never experiencing joy, comfort, togetherness. He knew what he had to do—what he _wanted_ to do.

“What are your plans for Thanksgiving?”


End file.
